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A Bit Not Good	By : VulpineBeesKnees Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 2924 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: We do not own or make any profit on BBC's Sherlock or any of their characters. It's all for fun.

Chapter List
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A few hours later, Sherlock woke. He wasn't sure how long he'd slept or what time it was, but John's alarm hadn't gone off yet. The light had shifted over his face and as he opened his eyes, blinking against the light, he found that at some point during his nap, he had rolled over, and was practically nose to nose with the doctor.

As he lay there he realized that John looked much younger when he slept. The worry lines were smoothed out and his brows weren't knit with pain and frustration. Sherlock felt himself drawn towards making this seemingly impossible version of John a reality.

A quick inventory told him that his hands were free, and his cool hand came to brush hair out of the doctors face, his fingertips ghosting down the side of his face. He wasn't sure what it was that was drawing him so much towards this man, but he was willing to attempt to find out.

Groggy with sleep, John pressed into the light touch on his face. It was soft, and comforting, and as far as he could tell he was dreaming, but that was fine by him. Snuggling closer to the body heat he let out a small contented sigh.

Sherlock felt a warm smile cross his face as John snuggled closer to him. The thought that he was comfortable enough to be so at ease was a heady sort of realization that he could easily become addicted to. He tipped his head forward and pressed his forehead against John's, breathing in deeply, relishing in the scents of John's shampoo, soap, deodorant and natural musk individually.

Sighing contentedly, he told himself that he would move away in a moment so as not to frighten him, in just another moment, he was too comfortable now. He would move.... Just one more.. And he fell asleep once more, relishing in the utter bliss coursing through his veins.

The loud obnoxious ring of the alarm caused John to jolt awake, an old habit that had not died. After the sudden start though he relaxed, reminding himself that the warmth and excess limbs were Sherlock’s that they had been there when he had fallen asleep. He didn’t want a repeat of the morning. Slowly John gathered his senses and opened his eyes to turn off the still ringing alarm.

Upon seeing Sherlock’s face so close to his own he started slightly, before pulling away enough to grab his phone from behind his head. Turning the alarm off he lied back down on his back, so he wasn’t quite as close to Sherlock, but the long arms which had been wrapped around him were still splayed across his own torso. Rolling his head to the right he looked at Sherlock, hoping he hadn’t noticed how jumpy he had been, “How’d you sleep?”

John was surprisingly comfortable how they were at the moment, and made no effort to put more space between them. In fact, rather out of comfort or instinct, he wasn’t sure, he moved one of his arms so it was lying across his torso, lined up with Sherlock’s so they just touched.

The Detective had woke with the alarm as well, but the jumps did not worry him as they had before, and the small touch of their arms gave him the reassurance he needed. His arms snuck around the man’s abdomen just enough to hook his fingers on the opposite side, and buried his face into John’s shoulder, successfully blocking out the bright light. He groaned softly and pulled his knees up a little.

“Not near enough, but good for the amount of time I had.” he said, “You?” He began stretching every muscle individually as he woke up more. “Hopefully just as well, I know you’re not one for afternoon naps very often.”

John felt oddly comfortable as Sherlock pulled him closer, and a blush crept into his cheeks as the younger mans curly hair brushed against his neck. Trying not to focus on his bodies reaction to the contact John moved his own arm to stretch, pulling them apart in a natural way.

“Really well actually, surprising how easy it is to sleep with you here.” John had never been one for naps in the past, but it had been years since he had slept through the night without a nightmare. It turned out his body was in need of restful sleep.

As he glanced over at Sherlock he felt a nervous flutter, and anxiety fell over his chest. He knew what he was feeling. It was something he had suppressed a long time ago, shortly after meeting Sherlock. At the time Sherlock had made it clear that he had zero interest in relationships, and John was fine with that. He was straight, right? His mouth felt dry and he tried to shake away the thoughts. “Shopping?” He didn’t quite trust himself to form full coherent sentences just yet.

If Sherlock had been looking, he would have been able to recognize that something was wrong, however he was still tucked into the blankets and too comfy to be deducting. “That’s good.” he murmured before sitting up finally, his curls sticking up in odd angles. When he sat up, the detective’s head swam, and he pressed cool fingertips to his temple in an attempt to ward off the dizziness.

“Right... shopping.. how tedious.” he said distractedly. “I suppose it’s better than sitting around here bored all day.” With a sigh he flopped forward onto the bed and stayed there, his arms splayed out beside him. He really didn’t want to get out of bed, but he knew shopping with John, as boring as it might sound, might end up being a better idea than he thought.

Rolling from the bed John stopped for a moment with his feet just touching the ground. “Alright, budge up then.” He gave the man a small playful shove as he got out of the bed. Glancing around the room he realized all the negative connotation had fled over the previous day, in fact he felt a new warmth being in the room.

“I’m gonna go get dressed, just be a moment.” Standing he moved to leave the room,but as an idea struck him he hesitated in the doorway. “Uhm, want to go to Angelo’s tonight? I mean he’d be pleased to see you, he’s sort of daft so he’ll probably eat up whatever story we tell him. Might be nice to get out? I’m sure there’s something safe we can find for you to eat there.” John kept one hand on the door frame, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth as he waited for a response. He wasn’t even sure which answer would be more of a relief at this point.

Sitting up, the man swung his legs over the side of the bed and waited a moment before standing. He had moved to his closet by the time John posed his question.Sherlock stopped in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt to turn and look at the doctor. His lip was captured by a row of neat white teeth, and he looked nervous again.Sherlock studied him very hard for a moment, contemplating what John wanted his answer to be, as well as what he himself wanted to answer with.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity he answered, “That sounds good. I have sorely missed his food and company.” He turned back to the closet and pulled out his suit coat and another, white shirt. This one was not wrinkled like the one he had been sleeping in. However, even after he answered, the nervous atmosphere stayed, so he teased the doctor in his usual way, totally dead panned.

“Are you going to go get dressed or are you going to stand there and gawk at me while I change?” His tone was obviously playful, but he delivered it with such a straight face, he knew that look of confusion would cross John’s features that made his eyebrows draw down and his lips purse in a silent question.To add to it, he started unbuttoning the rest of his shirt.

The doctor’s mouth fell open in shock at Sherlock’s comment. He stammered for a moment as a crimson blush spread across his cheeks. Then of course came the promised look of confusion, but this confusion was directed more at himself than anything else, why was he embarrassed? All of these emotions flitted across his features in a matter of moments and then, without any sort of explanation, he took from the room, rather quickly.

His fast paced walk did not stop until he was leaning against the back of his closed door. What the hell was that Watson? His mind raced, he could not believe this was happening to him of all people. God dammit, he thought to bitterly to himself. Sherlock needed him. He was sick and tired and he had come back to John for help, but John was what, having an existential crises?

Sherlock was a bloke, he should not be swooning over the man, the thought sent his mind reeling. But John hadn’t been in a proper emotional relationship for far too long, even before Sherlock had left all of his relationships were a half-hearted gesture. The other half of his heart, of course, had been at the beck and call of the detective. So the fact that he was actually feeling this on such an emotional level was as appealing as it was disconcerting.

After going through a series of motions quite suited to his current state of mind, pulling at his hair, rubbing a nervous hand across his face, cursing silently under his breath, he settled on getting dressed. He pulled on a comfortable jumper and denim trousers quickly, and hurried back to the shared sitting room. Whatever was happening, John knew he needed to control his emotions better. The last thing he wanted was Sherlock to deduce his latest actions, mostly because the doctor wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it.

Sherlock had been puzzled by the blush that had swept over John's face. What exactly did that mean? He had several theories, but none of which were actually worth the time it took to examine them. In some things, Sherlock could observe everything he needed to know about the doctor from a quick glance, but lately he'd become more puzzled than anything else by him. It was both infuriating and refreshing.

He had quickly changed his clothes, and by the time John returned, he was pulling on his coat and wrapping a scarf around his neck.

"You certainly took long enough." He grumped, running long fingers through his tousled curls to make them a little more presentable, "Let’s proceed with this bore..." He held up John's black jacket that he had snatched from the peg, holding it up so John could slip his arms through the sleeves .

Carefully averting his eyes John slipped into his arms into the coat, forcing himself to ignore Sherlock's hands on his shoulders as he pressed into the garment. "In a rush now are we?" He knew Sherlock was simply being impatient as always, even if he was less than excited for the destination he did not want to waste time. If anything he was hoping to return home sooner.

Once tucked into his coat John grabbed his keys and wallet from the desk and snatched his cane from where it had been left the night before. It was then that he remembered what had transpired between Sherlock and Lestrade before their impromptu nap. As he made his way down stairs he called back to Sherlock.

"So what were you on about with Lestrade? You have something against him being with a bloke? I mean I'm assuming you were right about that, he didn't really argue, but you looked like you were ready to tear back into him." John was at the bottom of the stairs opening the door that led to the street by the time he'd finished expressing his question.

Sherlock started to respond, but held his tongue for a moment. He hadn’t even thought about why he’d been so volatile towards the Detective Inspector earlier, it was obviously out of character since John was pointing it out. He had felt a spike of emotion when he’d seen the way that Greg had touched and been so close to John. It made him think of all the things the DI had done for the blonde while he’d been away. Had it been Greg that he’d run to with his problems since Sherlock wasn’t around? Had he cried on the man’s shoulder over Sherlock’s death? He knew Lestrade was seeing another man, and that thought didn’t bother him alone. It was the thought that he had homosexual tendencies and felt so close to his flatmate that made him furious. Sherlock told himself that it was just because he didn’t want his friend, John “I’m not gay” Watson to feel uncomfortable, but that wasn’t the sole reason.

“He did punch me John...” he said softly as he followed the shorter man out the door, “I have no problem with his sexual tendencies, I was merely aggravated by the previous confrontation...” His answer seemed distracted as he internally turned over the situation and scrutinized it thoroughly. He had never come across an action of his or a piece of himself that he didn’t fully understand, but this new found protectiveness of John was mind boggling. As he followed the doctor, he tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat, brows furrowed in deep thought.

Was this jealousy? Was he jealous that Lestrade had been able to get so close to John while he had been away? Or was it merely guilt that he had put his friend in that situation to begin with. He shook his head, deciding that he would think more on it later when John could not openly observe his features and surmise his thought process. Perhaps while the older man was sleeping tonight, he would be able to focus better and examine these newfound emotional responses.

John nodded as he locked the door of 221B behind them. He wasn't totally convinced as he watched Sherlock's body language, he was definitely bothered. Yes, Lestrade had punched him, but at the time Sherlock thought he deserved it. It wasn't until he made the deduction regarding the detective inspectors sexuality that he'd lost his temper. It was probably best he didn't ask about the topic any more, maybe John really didn't want to know the answer.

"Well hopefully you didn't piss him off too bad. God knows you need a case." The blonde shot Sherlock a wry smile, attempting to lighten the mood as they set off down the street to the corner shop.

"Are you suggesting that I'm starting to become hard to live with? Complaining already? I've only been back a day. If I would have known it would be like this I might not have come back at all..." He was joking of course, and he cut his eyes at the shorter man to make sure he realized that as they fell in step together.

“Oh please,” John muttered, “I’m just preparing for when you aren’t so apt to sleeping all day.” Sure Sherlock was contented at the moment, but John was sure by the end of the week the detective would be climbing the walls with boredom, or shooting them.

The shop was just around the corner, not too long of a walk, and basically a waste of a fare to take a cabbie. In hindsight it may not have been the best plan, considering Sherlock was still dead. Luckily the path that led them to the shop was rather barren, and Sherlock’s story was old enough that people weren’t still looking for him around every corner. .

“So what all do we need to buy at the grocery?” Sherlock moved so that they were walking side by side, him a half step behind the doctor so that his elbow was slightly behind the man so that they were still close, even as they walked.

"Uhm," John scratched the back of his head nervously, "We have half a loaf of bread, tea, milk and biscuits." Giving Sherlock a sideways apologetic glance John shrugged, "So a little of everything." Eating had definitely been on the back burner during the absence of his detective. It wasn't something John was proud of, and in all honesty it seemed insane now that things were going back to normal.

His eyes narrowed as he looked down at the doctor. “And you talk to me about eating?” He frowned at John and turned, opening the door to the corner store, he ushered John in ahead of him.

"Save it." The blonde muttered as he brushed past Sherlock and into the store

“Okay so... I’m assuming we’ll need food to make meals for the week...” Sherlock felt very out of his element. He’d never gone food shopping before. Not even on his own. He rarely ate, and usually had a flatmate to do the shopping even if they hadn’t stayed around very long.

He stopped at the front of the store and looked around, feeling a little cold. He felt so out of place... and it felt a little odd doing something so mundane with John. It really made it feel like nothing had happened over the past few years, though the tenderness in his side disproved that. A headache pierced through his skull and with a wince, he reached out for John to ground himself, his fingers clawing at air until he felt the roughness of the doctor’s coat beneath his fingers. Calm instantly flooding his body and he drew closer to the man as they stepped further into the store.

Feeling the tug on his coat sleeve John looked up to see a nervous looking Sherlock hovering over his shoulder. Placing his opposite hand over the one gripping his coat John spoke softly, quiet enough that the words would only be heard by the tall brunette.

"It's alright Sh'lock," his hushed tone caused him to slur his name, and John found he sort of liked how it sounded. Grabbing two baskets he held one out to Sherlock, and continued talking, not quite as intimately. "I can handle a little grocer, you just stick with me." Then to John’s own surprise he winked at Sherlock and began moving toward the produce.

The detective had rolled his eyes at the comment, but the wink surprised him. He stood for a moment, almost stupefied before mentally kicking himself and taking a few long strides to catch up to the smaller man. Their shopping didn’t take long, and Sherlock actually had fun peering at items over the soldier’s shoulder. The grocer had looked at them oddly, and Sherlock knew he probably looked menacing behind the smaller man in his dark coat and surly expression. But when they left, shopping bags in hand, he was glad he had come with the man instead of staying in.

“At least you didn’t get in a fight with a chip and pin machine this time....” his smirk was devilish when he glanced at the blonde, “Maybe I’m good luck for you.” He had the plastic bags tucked in the crook of his elbow as he walked along side his flatmate. All in all, the trip to the grocery had been a good experience, and Sherlock knew he was better for it. However, the experience was steadily being ruined as his hands started to shake, normally this would be the time he would take some of his pills, but he was adamant on progression rather than regression. He frowned, and his expression turned a little sullen as he tried to find something else to focus on rather than the craving rolling through his body.

Shaking his head and adjusting the bags on his arm John sighed, "I'm never gonna live that one down am I?" Chuckling softly at the memory he stole a glance at the brunette who appeared to be brewing over something. The sight halted the good natured laugh. Everything had seemed fine while they were shopping, in fact Sherlock had seemed rather amused by the domesticity of the entire process. He had leaned curiously over John’s shoulder most of the trip, not that John minded the attention.

Working to keep his voice light John quipped, "Oh come on, it wasn't that bad. I mean it wasn't chasing suspects across the London skyline, but what'd you expect?" His strides slowed as he watched Sherlock closely, something was off.

“Hmmm?” he said, he hadn’t really been paying attention, which was not like himself at all. “I’m sorry what did you say?” He turned to look at the smaller man, his eyes still a little far off. “I was.... thinking of something else... Sorry...” He cleared his throat and bit the inside of his cheeks trying to fight the wave of need that seemed to insist on crashing over him. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to tell John what was going on or not. He had come to the man for help, but he knew John did not react well when faced with his drug problems. He decided he would try to play it off unless John made a big deal out of it.

Stopping quickly John pulled Sherlock by his cuff so they were facing each. He studied Sherlock's eyes for a moment, it wasn't like Sherlock to daze off like that. He could go on talking for ages, not noticing if anyone was listening, but he didn't just disappear like that in the middle of a conversation. Not for no reason, and not with that lost and dazed expression.

Johns mouth quirked to the side in worry, he could see Sherlock was shaking, his eyes were glazed over and he was practically radiating his desperation. "Sherlock." He started carefully, putting a hand under his encumbered elbow. "You with me?"

John had been happy to play along while Sherlock was doing well, it was easy to pretend that nothing was wrong. But that wasn't quite true, the image of those damaged arms was burned into his memory, so deep down John knew that this was inevitable to some degree or another. He was a doctor, Sherlocks doctor, so he would do everything in his power to aid him in the road to recovery. It didn't mean he liked it.

He was spun quickly and efficiently to the side to face John, and he found himself looking down into a pair of worried eyes. His brows knit together before he forced his face to relax. The hand on his elbow helped to ground him. He took a breath, and let it out before he spoke.

“Yeah. I’m here now.” he said softly, “Let’s get home, it’s getting rather chilly out, I think it might rain later.” He inclined his head and turned, begging John to at least let it go until they got home. He didn’t want to hash out his addiction and the side effects of it here on the street. Especially since he was supposed to be keeping a low profile.

“Come on...” he ushered again, and began walking once more, headed in the direction of 221B.

Giving Sherlock a short nod and keeping a hand tucked under his elbow John led them both. He didn't move his hand away until he was unlocking the front door and ushering Sherlock up the stairs.
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A Bit Not Good